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Extermination Postponed
Lobby - Galo Towers The main lobby for the Galo Towers is situated on the first floor from which the ten towers, all white edifices of varying heights bunched together, may be accessed. The room is spacious with maroon carpeting covering white marble floors, seperated by a small solarium and two fountains. The front desk stretches along the south wall where a number of protocol droids are prepared to assist visitors and residents alike. The towers are also guarded by a small CorSec office at the north wall. Most of the first floor is dominated by three high class restaurants and a popular nightclub, while on the far wall a row of lifts are prepared to take people to any of the towers. Through the automated doors of the Galo Towers lobby enters a tall, spindly droid with a body and arms of gunmetal gray. The cylindrical head glows with red sensors. The arms are affixed with a rather grim array of deadly weaponry. The robot stops once it walks in about five feet from the doors, scans the protocol droids standing at the front desk, and then quietly regards others in the lobby. Facing the Apartment Console and typing slowly on it, Florez, lifts his black sunglasses over his cap and reviews information on the console infront of him. A slight 'Hm' can be heard, while small apartment owners shuffle in and out of the area. POTENTIAL RESOURCE IDENTIFIED. The assassin droid fixes its attention on Florez, servos whirring and metallic feet clunking as IG-88 closes on the man at the console. Not noticing the droid approach him, Florez simply continues to examine the console infront of him. A moment later he hears the droid servos, and the man turns around. He wonders, ~ Hm, this might be one of those new droids the impies are throwing out.~ The man the says, "May I help you?" Florez's voice is low, and harsh from his battlehardness. COMMUNICATION MODULE ACTIVATED. A male-simulacrum voice emanates from a speaker in the droid's cylindrical head: "Report. Respond. Identify." From a holoemitter comes the following image: About average height for a human, and of a pale complexion, this creature is still not quite human. Identified by his lekku as a Twi'lek, this male has a slightly green skintone. Alert eyes are in his face, sunken only slightly into his spare flesh. They are rarely still, the creature's entire attitude one of relaxed if constant observance. Smooth skin covers his features, unblemished by scars, burns, or pocks. There are no deformities on his body, though his face holds one deviation from the otherwise flawless norm: His right eye is red and his left is a mechanical green, glowing slightly. Even more unnerving, perhaps, is the lack of eyelids on this eye; it cannot be closed. The clothing he wears is rather anachronistic. Similar in cut to the clothing once worn by members of the Jedi Order, it is made up entirely of browns of various shades. A light brown inner tunic is covered with a lightweight, off-white outer tunic, with loose sleeves. Tabards fall down his thighs in the front and back, a slightly darker brown than the inner tunic. A light-colored sash is wrapped about his torso, holding this all together. As well, a utility belt covers this. The only difference between his clothing and the clothing of most members of the Jedi Order is that they are closer to his form, less relaxed. "I'm sorry, I do not know of this Twi'lek." says Florez honestly. The man then shrugs slightly and says, "I do not know of anyone like this." The Man then awaits a response from the unknown droid. COMMUNICATION MODULE ACTIVATED. A male-simulacrum voice emanates from a speaker in the droid's cylindrical head: "Acknowledged. Extermination postponed." The assassin droid then turns and stalks away, servos whirring as it seeks out someone else to question. Unintimidated by the droid's choice of words, Florez simply grunts and turns back around allowing the droid to exit the area, his current course. Florez simply continues where he left off, befroe he was approached. Main Lobby - CorSec Headquarters An expansive lobby, the entrance to CorSec Headquarters appears more that of a corporation than military center. Marble floors and a high, arched ceiling give the hall an echoed, cavernous feel, while along the walls statues of past CorSec members are displayed representing its long history. A central desk serves as the hub of communications for those entering the head quarters where an array of protocol droids stand ready to assist. The lobby is at all times busy with never ending work of the planet's security force. Officers and other officials are seen in force, while civilians mingle for their own reasons. Along one of the walls is a line of lifts to the other floors, while in the rear large, glass-paned doors lead to CorSec's other facilities. CorSec headquarters is quiet, but for the occasional officer dragging a common-looking thug in for lockdown. A single officer stands near an open door leading to a long, stone-lined hallway, munching on some sort of pastry that drips onto his hands. Occasionally, controlled bursts of blasterfire can be heard from that door, muffled by their distance. In a padded room, deeper into the complex, Yarak and Xavia are undergoing a blaster pistol safety course. The Fallen has a rubber pistol pointed at Yarak, and they're making banter back and forth, with a CorSec officer watching nearby. Through the automated doors of the CorSec Headquarters lobby enters a tall, spindly droid with a body and arms of gunmetal gray. The cylindrical head glows with red sensors. The arms are affixed with a rather grim array of deadly weaponry. The robot stops once it walks in about five feet from the doors. It fixes its attention on the guard standing near the open door. POTENTIAL RESOURCE IDENTIFIED. Servos whir and metal feet thud as IG-88 approaches the man. And Yarak seems to be making an honest attempt to disarm Xavia, although, it becomes highly appearant that he doesn't know what he is doing in this instance. He attempts to twist the weapon from the Falleen's hands. "Let go, will ya?" Trying to jerk free and step back Xavia attempts to get room to use the 'weapon' on her friend. "Oh, come on," the officer with Yarak and Xavia says, stepping in to pull them apart, "Shoo, shoo. Look. Try again... ... actually *try* this time, hm?" He directs this latter bit at Yarak in particular. Meanwhile, in the lobby... "Grk," is the sound the officer in front of IG-88 makes as he all but chokes on his pastry. "Cam I hep yoo?" he asks quickly, nerveously forgetting to swallow his food before speaking. Backing off a step Xavia brings the blue rubber pistol to bare on Yarak. "Ok you overgrown piece of belly button lint!" she says in a deep tone turning a bright red in color as she stands there. "The credits or your life. I tire of the game." She says with no emotion in her voice. The Bothan watches the movements, then nods. "Alright." No banter this time, he steps forward and reaches up for the gun, in hopes that he can mimic the manuver that was shown earlier and twist the weapon from Xavia's hands. COMMUNICATION MODULE ACTIVATED. A male-simulacrum voice emanates from a speaker in the droid's cylindrical head: "Report. Respond. Identify." From a holoemitter comes the following image: About average height for a human, and of a pale complexion, this creature is still not quite human. Identified by his lekku as a Twi'lek, this male has a slightly green skintone. Alert eyes are in his face, sunken only slightly into his spare flesh. They are rarely still, the creature's entire attitude one of relaxed if constant observance. Smooth skin covers his features, unblemished by scars, burns, or pocks. There are no deformities on his body, though his face holds one deviation from the otherwise flawless norm: His right eye is red and his left is a mechanical green, glowing slightly. Even more unnerving, perhaps, is the lack of eyelids on this eye; it cannot be closed. The clothing he wears is rather anachronistic. Similar in cut to the clothing once worn by members of the Jedi Order, it is made up entirely of browns of various shades. A light brown inner tunic is covered with a lightweight, off-white outer tunic, with loose sleeves. Tabards fall down his thighs in the front and back, a slightly darker brown than the inner tunic. A light-colored sash is wrapped about his torso, holding this all together. As well, a utility belt covers this. The only difference between his clothing and the clothing of most members of the Jedi Order is that they are closer to his form, less relaxed. Seeing as things are more properly exicuted this time Xavia has less chance to react and is disarmed in a proper manner. She smiles a little. "Much better Yarak. Much smoother." A CorSec officer stands near an open door that leads into a long, stone tunnel. He's watching the hologram of a twi'lek emitted by a droid standing in front of him - IG-88. The officer stares at IG-88, watching the hologram flicker and glow as he chews and swallows, ridding his mouth of the last of his pastry. "Uh... It's a Jedi? I think I saw a picture of that guy when they say he killed Lord Vader. Good riddance to Ryloth; too much spice coming from there, anyway. Made our jobs easier for a little while. If you wanna know about Jedi, um... well, a Bounty Hunter caught one here in coronet a while back. We had a little party." Deeper into the complex, Xavia and Yarak are practicing weapons safety. COMMUNICATION MODULE ACTIVATED. A male-simulacrum voice emanates from a speaker in the droid's cylindrical head: "Query. Bounty hunter. Report. Respond. Identify." "Uh... Boba Fett," the officer responds nervously, nodding once to IG-88. "I think so. At least, he looked like Boba Fett, with all that armour he wears. Man, Boba Fett is such a hero. That Jedi would've probably wrecked our town if Boba Fett hadn't come and proved why he's known as the best bounty hunter in the galaxy. ... Sure wish I had armor like that..." COMMUNICATION MODULE ACTIVATED. A male-simulacrum voice emanates from a speaker in the droid's cylindrical head: "Confirmation. Boba Fett. Bounty hunter. Acknowledged. Extermination postponed." Its business apparently complete, IG-88 turns and stalks away. Servos whir. Steel feet thump. The assassin droid makes its way toward the doors leading out. Yarak blinks as he ends up with the gun, "Oy, that worked..." He looks back at Xavia, "but will it work out on others. I mean, you are talking to the one that got stabbed..." He shakes his head. Now that Yarak has gained the weapon Xavia turns to face the instructor. "What do you wish of us now sir?" She asks her voice even and friendly. "Have we performed adequitly?" Xavia waits patiently for a responce. "Extermination postponed?" the CorSec man asks another officer a few meters away, who shrugs and shakes his head. "Uh... Good luck," the officer says to IG-88's backside before glancing to his pastry and then quietly moving to throw it away, appetite apparently gone missing. The officer in Yarak and Xavia's training area nods to the pair of aliens, and says, "Yeah, I suppose you guys can get those permits now. And remember: these are only good in CorSec jurisdiction. The Empire probably won't recognize them. You'd be better off skinning yourself a J'Rathi if you want that." He points toward the exit, and says, "You know the way to the lobby. They'll get you set up in there." Yarak Tar'lya nods slightly to the officer. "Indeed. All Corsec worlds, nowhere else. Carry, but not concealed. Many thanks." He turns to Xavia and bows slightly, still holding the fake blue gun, "After you Lady Xavia." He looks at the rubber toy in his hand, "Here you go sir. Thanks for your time." Category:Reach of the Empire Logs